By Odolaye Aremu
Strange is her ways,
Cryptic is his speak
Stories, and clay homes with foundation
foundation, latched unto concrete wisdom
“Agba nbo wa kan e o ee!”
Slow is her walk
bent is his gait
slow walks and tubes of BenGay
lubes of ease for creaking joints.
“Agba nbo wa kan e o ee!”
Paper-thin skin
dry-like veins of leaf;
lumpy-like the crust of bread,
are all likely coming of age.
“Agba nbo wa kan e o ee!”
Teeth robbed of shiny pearls
Saliva gifted with sucrose brown
A jab of disgust,
is the truth cometh straight from a wizened mouth.
“Agba nbo wa kan e o ee!”
Hazy vision,
Cataract-coated pupils
seeing now, is blind
the inner eyes, the light to darkened spots.
“Agba nbo wa kan e o ee !”
Expectation of final homecoming
various fruits of youthful dedication.
Seeds of his, and those of hers;
totaling a huge basket of bountiful harvest.
“Agba wa kan e o ee!”
Dedicated to my grandparents, my parents and to all the aged population around the world.
Photo courtesy of Olusola ‘sozzy’ Afolabi.
